***

Just two more days until she flew to England. Emily packed. England in autumn in Suffolk. She'd need her riding pants, which were put away, but she knew where to find them. They would need a slight alteration. Her boots and a tweed jacket, and two pairs of slacks, sweaters, one little black dress, because she knew they would eat out at least once, and her London Fog raincoat. Savannah would have Wellies if the weather was mucky.

She paid a visit to Lacy Nothings and stocked up on a few outrageous items: two garter belts, one in black, and the other a wild magenta with matching stockings; and four very naughty teddies, one a very hot pink, one red, one cream, and the other black. She also bought a pair of wicked black stilettos with rhinestone studded heels; and she couldn't resist a pink feather boa.

The local girl totting up her purchases looked at her somewhat askance. "These all for you, Miss Shanski?" she said, one eyebrow just slightly raised. Emily was known to love beautiful lingerie, but some of these items were positively raunchy.

"For my friend Savannah Banning. I'm going to England to visit her tomorrow," Emily said. "She just loves all the things I have from the shop, and she's got a birthday coming up soon."

"Ohhh," the salesgirl said, smiling. Now it all made sense. She had read Savannah Banning's novels. "Yeah, some pretty naughty stuff in this lot." She grinned. "Hope Miss Banning likes 'em."

"I'm sure she will," Emily lied. Why did people think only someone like Savannah Banning would wear racy lingerie? But she knew the answer to her own question. Emilie Shann wrote romantic love stories with chaste heroines and manly heroes who only alluded to sex. Well, not anymore! And she almost giggled aloud.

The flight was perfect. Emily always flew first-class. Like pretty lingerie, it was one of her weaknesses. She could afford it, and she liked being able to stretch out her legs. And she always booked the entire row, so she didn't have to talk if she didn't want to talk. A young stewardess in first class was a fan, however. She oozed compliments, and practically swooned when Emily agreed to sign her copy of Vanessa and the Viscount, which she just happened to have with her. The senior stewardess, who had flown with Emily before and knew her habits, nodded to her passenger with a sympathetic smile. Then she murmured quietly in the younger woman's ear, and the rest of Emily's flight was a peaceful one. Lord Palmer's car was there to meet her. The drive down to Barrow, in Suffolk, was smooth.

"I can't believe you're here!" Savannah Banning squealed, flying from her house to greet her guest. She was an extraordinarily beautiful woman with a mane of midnight black hair, gardenia skin, and gray eyes. "Did you stop at the inn and leave your bags? Devlin phoned from London. He'll be down by teatime, and he's meeting you here." She stepped back and looked at Emily. "Oh, God, you really are in love with him!"

Emily laughed. "I am," she admitted. "Now all I have to do is bring him up to scratch, as they say in my novels."

"I read what you e-mailed me, darling," Savannah said, and she smiled her little cat's smile. "Your fans are in for both a shock and a treat, Em. I love The Defiant Duchess."

"Give me a quote then," Emily said. "That should please J.P."

"Screw J.P! The woman is a dreadful bitch, but if she knew you got what she didn't I suspect she would explode in a puff of her own nastiness, darling!" Savannah laughed. "Is he good? Really good?"

"Savannah, we had this conversation before, and I have no real comparison," Emily said, laughing. The two women linked arms as they went into the house.

"Is there a similarity to the duke?" Savannah wanted to know. "I thought we'd wait for tea until Devlin gets here."

"There is, and there isn't," Emily said as she settled herself into the cushions of a flowered sofa. "Trahern seems a bit rougher, but then, he is eighteenth-century, Sava."

"Actually I think he's quite dreamy," Savannah murmured. "And so in love with his defiant duchess, darling. It's a wonderful book, Em. It will make you oodles of money." And at Emily's look of disbelief, Savannah Banning giggled. "I know, I know." she said. "Authors don't make money. Publishers make money."

"If it weren't for the early books I couldn't have my simple small-town lifestyle," Emily said. "When was the last time you saw royalties?"

"Oh, let's not talk about publishing," Savannah replied. "I think I hear a car." She got up and went to the bay window of the room. "Yes, Devlin is here."

Emily felt her heart jump. He was here. Would he feel the same way he had felt before he left for Frankfurt almost two weeks ago? Did she? The door to the lounge opened, and oh, yes, she did! Emily launched herself at Michael Devlin, whose handsome face was suddenly wreathed in a broad smile at the sight of her.

His arms closed tightly about her. "God, angel face, I've missed you," he said, and then he was kissing her.

"I'll go and check on tea," Savannah said diplomatically, wondering if they even heard her as she left the room.

"I can't wait," Devlin growled in her ear. He unzipped his fly.

"Neither can I!" Emily moaned as he turned her about, bent her over the padded arm of the couch, and yanked her skirt up. "Oh, God, yes!" she sobbed as his long, thick penis pushed into her. His hands held her steady as her hips moved in rhythm with his. He stopped for just a moment, and the throbbing of his talented cock made her dizzy with her own heated desires. "Make me come, Devlin," she begged him. "I have missed you too. Oh, yes! And yes again!"

He had become an engine of lust with her. He felt himself growing harder than he could ever remember. He plumbed her depths first with slow, almost majestic strokes of his dick. She whimpered with her need, and so he increased the tempo until he was moving with increasing rapidity, and he could feel her orgasm approaching. He slowed himself, and she protested, but, laughing, he first kissed and then nipped at the nape of her neck. "Be patient, angel face. I want it to be extra good for us this time." Then he began to thrust harder and harder, until she was crying out to him with her need for release. He gave it to her, his come spurting in thick gobs into her vagina. Then with a groan he fell forward briefly, his hands reaching around her to clasp her breasts.

Lord Reginald Palmer, Baron Tilbury, had come upon the scene shortly after it had begun. He smiled and watched as Michael Devlin fucked the adorable Emily Shanski, his own dick getting harder and harder. The scene seemed to go on forever, and he was sorely tempted to pick up where the Irishman had left off. But then his wife was drawing his penis from his riding breeches, kneeling down, and sucking him off. "Good girl," he murmured low as she swallowed every bit of his salty cum.

"I heard you come in," Savannah said softly. "You're a very naughty boy, Reg, spying on Emily and Mick." She stood up and smoothed her dress down.

"He covered her like one of my stallions with a mare," Lord Palmer replied admiringly. "No hesitation at all. And damned if she didn't seem to quite enjoy it, Sava. Didn't know Emily fucked. Do you think she would enjoy a threesome with us?"

"Already asked, darling, but she said no. Thought it would make a nice birthday surprise for you. Unfortunately you're married to me, and that makes her uncomfortable. Sorry about that. Now I've told Roberts to give us ten minutes and then serve tea. We're fortunate he didn't come upon us, but, of course, it wouldn't be the first time." She took his arm. "I think they're finished now," she said, peeking through the door to the lounge, which hadn't been quite shut. "Let's go in. Emily, Mick, look who's just come in from the stables." She led her husband into the room.

Emily was flushed rosy, but she managed to stand up from the couch, where she had just been sitting. "Reg, how nice," she said as they kissed each other's cheeks.

"You are radiant, Emily, my dear," Lord Palmer replied. There was just the faintest scent of sex about her, and it was very erotic, he thought. He turned to Michael Devlin. "Mick, how are you?" Dumb question. The man had the look of a well-fed tabby, and why not? He was fresh from a boisterous fuck with a lovely woman.

They were barely seated again when Roberts appeared, accompanied by a little maid and carrying a large silver tea tray. He set it down on the butler's tray. "Shall I pour, m'lady?" he asked Savannah.

"Yes, but just first cups, Roberts. Then you and Agnes may go," she answered. She glanced at the tray. Watercress, cucumber, and beef-and-cheddar finger sandwiches. Scones, clotted Devon cream, and strawberry jam. A plate of Mrs. Munson's miniature lemon curd, and mince meat tartlets. Another plate of thin-sliced dark fruitcake. A bit skimpy, but it would do. Tea was a bit late, after all, and there was dinner to consider.

"Didn't they feed you on the flight?" Lord Palmer asked Emily innocently.

"Your English air makes me extra hungry," Emily replied, snatching the last beef-and-cheddar sandwich from the plate. "Sava, this mustard is delicious. Where do you get it? Is it French?"

Master William and Miss Selena were brought into the lounge by their nanny, a starchy-looking older woman, to greet the guests and then bid their parents a good night. They were fresh from their baths, and in pajamas and nightgown. Selena, her mother's miniature, was shy, for she hardly knew Emily, but she did recall Michael Devlin, and was soon curled up in his lap.

"Her mother's daughter," Emily said with a smile.

William, however, remembered his godmother. He put his arms about her neck and kissed her cheek. "Did you bring me a gift?" he asked her.